Poetry

Sedan

On rain‑slick streets a sleek saloon glides, Its polished bonnet catching city lights, A quiet hum beneath the muted tyres, Where commuters share the hush of night. The boot holds dreams, the

Belie

Belie In the hush of twilight, a smile belies the storm, A quiet laugh that masks a furrowed brow, The rose’s blush belies its thorns, warm, Yet truth, like fog, will somehow

Havoc

Havoc In the quiet lane of morning light, A sudden gust awakens fright— Leaves whirl in frantic, dancing spree, As wind turns calm to wild decree. The market square erupts in sound, Stalls overturn,

Condo

In the glass‑fronted condo, sunlight spills, Over balconies where tea steam curls, Neighbours greet with a polite “good day”, While the lift hums like a contented cat, Car park below holds bicycles and prams, And

Slate

On the quiet hill where old roofs sigh, A slab of slate lies low beneath the sky. Grey as a winter’s breath, its surface cool, A canvas kissed by rain, a mason’s tool.

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